Reborn to Rewrite the Spotlight

Chapter 18: One Time

March 2005 – Los Angeles, California

Age: 11 years, 2 months

I'd always known deep down that I was meant for something bigger. It wasn't about fame or success—it was about the art of music. That's what had driven me in my original timeline, and that's what kept me going now, in this new life.

So when I sat down one evening, alone in my room, with my guitar in hand, it didn't feel like a decision. It was a calling. I had already spent weeks thinking about what my music should sound like. What it should mean. I couldn't just follow the path others set before me. I had to create something that felt real to me, something that came from the deepest corners of my heart.

And that's when I wrote One Time. It just poured out of me, the words and the melody blending together in a perfect storm of emotion. I'd known this song in my heart even before I picked up the guitar, and as I strummed those first chords, I felt an overwhelming sense of connection—like I was truly doing what I was meant to.

I didn't need anyone else to help me with this. No producer, no record label, no one telling me what to do. I knew I could do this on my own.

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The next day, I sat down with my mom to tell her about it. We'd been talking about how things were going with Harv and the music scene, but I hadn't said much about what I had been working on in my free time. She knew I'd been writing music, but she didn't know the extent of it.

"Mom, I've written a song," I said, my voice calm but purposeful. "It's called One Time."

Her eyebrows raised, clearly interested. "Really? That's amazing! Can I hear it?"

I handed her the lyrics I had written down on a piece of paper. I had poured everything into these words, every ounce of emotion, every experience I had accumulated in my past and present lives. This was more than just a song—it was a statement. A promise.

I sat back, watching her as she read through the lines. Her eyes softened, and when she looked up at me, I could see the pride in them.

"Justin, this is beautiful," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You've really got something here. This isn't just a song—it's a piece of your soul."

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As I looked at my mom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She wasn't just a supportive mother—she was someone who truly believed in me. And while I knew the industry was full of sharks, people who would try to tear me down, I also knew that as long as I had my music, my heart, and the people who cared about me, I would never lose sight of who I was.

That evening, I couldn't sleep. I stayed up, replaying the melody in my head, adding little touches to the guitar parts. I had a vision for this song, and I knew I could make it something special. My fingers danced over the strings as I hummed the chorus, the words floating effortlessly from my lips:

Me plus you, I'mma tell you one time,

Me plus you, I'mma tell you one time,

Me plus you, I'mma tell you one time,

One time…

It felt so right, like I had known these words all my life.

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The next few weeks passed in a blur. I showed One Time to a few people—just a handful. My mom, of course, was the first to hear it. Then a few close friends. Their reactions were always the same: surprised, impressed, moved. It wasn't the typical pop song you'd expect from a kid trying to break into the industry. It was raw, emotional, and pure. And that's what made it stand out.

I spent hours in my room, refining it, making it perfect. The lyrics, the melody, the structure—everything had to be just right. I wasn't trying to impress anyone; I was just trying to tell my story. The story of love, of longing, of connection. The story of me.

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One afternoon, my mom came to me with news. She'd arranged a meeting with Harv. He had heard about the song, and he wanted to hear it himself. I didn't know how I felt about it. Part of me was excited to share what I had created. But another part of me hesitated. Would Harv understand what I was trying to say? Would he try to change it, mold it into something more commercial, more "sellable"?

But I decided I wasn't going to let that happen. This song was mine. I had written it for me, and no one else. If Harv couldn't see that, then maybe he wasn't the right person to work with after all.

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We met at a small studio, the kind of place that reeked of ambition and sweat. It was here, in this cluttered room filled with instruments and sound equipment, that my song would either be accepted or discarded. I had made my decision. I was ready to fight for my art.

Harv was there, along with a few other people I didn't recognize. I could tell they were important—producers, managers, industry insiders. They were here to hear One Time. They wanted to see what I was made of.

I sat in front of the microphone, my guitar in my hands. I was nervous, but I didn't show it. I had been through enough in my past life to know how to keep calm in situations like this. My fingers brushed over the strings as I strummed the opening chords. I looked at my mom, who gave me a supportive nod, and then I began to sing.

When I met you girl my heart went knock knock knock,

Now them butterflies in my stomach won't stop stop…

The words poured out of me, every note resonating with the emotions I had been holding inside. I wasn't just singing a song—I was sharing a piece of my soul. And I could tell, even as I sang, that Harv and the others were captivated. They hadn't expected something like this.

When I finished the song, the room fell silent. I waited for their reactions, not sure what to expect. Finally, Harv spoke.

"Justin… that was incredible."

I felt a rush of relief flood through me. I hadn't needed to act naive to get here. My talent, my vision, and my heart had carried me this far.

"This song… it's real. It's you. And I think people are going to connect with it," Harv continued. "We'll make sure the world hears it."

I nodded, my heart swelling with pride. I didn't need anyone to tell me what to do next. I had already taken the first step on my journey. And this was just the beginning.

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One Time wasn't just a song anymore. It was the key to everything I had dreamed of. The world would hear it, and they would hear me.